


Tea and Corsets

by shopfront



Series: 100_women [1]
Category: The Secret Garden (1993)
Genre: Community: 100_women, F/F, Future Fic, International Day of Femslash, Service Kink, interrupted masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2010-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-08 16:17:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/pseuds/shopfront
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mary arrived at Misselthwaite Manor, Martha taught her how to put on her dresses and play with skipping ropes. When Mary grows up she's still always by her side to teach her new things. Like where to put her fingers and how to gasp with pleasure quietly enough that nobody else in the Manor overhears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea and Corsets

**Author's Note:**

> Theme: 060. Evening.

Mary groans and rolls away from the morning light. She's exhausted. She doesn't want to get up - she's tempted to groan insults aloud at the sun - but there's no one around to laugh at her for it. Not even Martha, not this early. She pulls a pillow over her head to block the light, in the hope of drifting off again. Misselthwaite has been constantly bustling with summer guests and parties for weeks, and Mary just wants to be able to get up at her own pace and bury her hands in the soil of her gardens. Her old routine of flowers and weeds and orphaned animals.

Instead, she's been laced up into especially fancy gowns all spring and shown off day and night for the parade of new faces prancing through their home. Colin, of course, thought it was all completely ridiculous and refused to entertain his father's idea of finding Mary a suitable husband, and Dickon just shrugged and muttered something vague about rich people and their habits before returning to the gardens and the animals that Mary was missing so desperately.

Colin was right. It was ridiculous, because Mary didn't want to search for a suitable husband either. Though there was something appealing about the charade, the shine wore off very quickly after the first hour spent with preening, leering strangers. Martha lacing up her new gowns, though - dear Martha, who her Uncle had let her keep by her side, even if she wasn't a suitable maid for the young lady he had decided to bring her up to be - was more thrilling than expected. There were straps and ties to pull tight now, where before fastenings and cut were chosen for comfort and their resilience to crawling around in flower beds. But now Martha pulled her clothes tight until it made her gasp for air, and then stroked her arms to soothe her before kneeling at her feet to arrange her stockings and do up the tiny buttons on her shoes. Always talking away as she worked, Martha was, her head bobbing and her smile shining up at Mary and making her have to work even harder to breathe.

It was a long, torturous process that left her shivering with longing while in her rooms with Martha, but quickly found her bored and deeply uncomfortable elsewhere.

Mary sighs, and shifts restlessly in her bed.

"I don't want to get up." She gives up, throws aside the pillow, and announces her annoyance to the ivory elephants on the table by her bed (she had been informed years ago that it was undignified for a lady of her years to keep her belongings under her bed). Her bed might be comfortable, but she's already too awake to simply melt back into it and enjoy the peace. She shifts a little, and then kicks her feet restlessly to loosen the covers.

"This is ridiculous."

She sighs, twists to check out the window. The light is still dim, which isn't a reliable indication of the time without exerting more effort to examine the clouds, but the house is also delightfully silent and she stretches her arms above her head. Martha will be along soon, though probably not too soon, to wake her. Mary sighs again, and shifts in her bed. She'll probably giggle and pretend to tickle her to wake her up, and her fingers on Mary's waist will probably make her shiver. Like they do most mornings.

Mary licks her lips and parts her thighs. There's some sort of special lunch planned for today, and she has been planning to wear her newest dress, with her tightest corset. She'll need Martha's deft fingers and distracting giggles to get it all on without mishap and total misery, and she finds herself looking forward to it even more than usual. Biting her lower lip, she eyes the window and the door for a moment, and then pushes her covers off. Too heavy, too hindering, and the manor is perfectly still anyway. Still enough for this. She arches her hips off the mattress to tug up her nightgown, and lies back down, still and quiet herself and relishing the moment.

She cups her breast with one hand, and begins to slide her hand down her stomach. Slowly, slowly, anticipation is everything, and then she throws her head to the side helplessly and moans. She dips her fingers between her legs, and traces one circle, then two, before she hears the doorknob rattle.

"Good morning, Miss Mary," Martha sing songs like she always does as she comes through the door. "I'm afraid all the uproar yesterday has left everyone a little slow to start today, so breakfast- oh!"

Mary flies upright in her bed, clearing her throat and fumbling with the blankets.

"My, miss, you're looking awfully flushed this morning," Martha says, recovering quickly, and throws a cheeky grin over her shoulder as she bustles about. "I hope I didn't wake you?"

Mary clears her throat a few more times and tries to think of anything - anything! - other than throaty expressions of embarrassment, but has to settle for shaking her head wordlessly.

"Your breakfast should ready just a little later than usual," Martha continues, and walks over to the bed to pull the covers straight and tuck Mary's tangled hair back behind her ears fondly. Despite her mortification, Mary can't seem to stop the audibly shaky breath she sucks in as Martha's hands smoothes the sheets up against her belly, but Martha's grin just grows ever wider. "I'll be bringing it up as soon as it's ready. You might as well stay in bed until then, miss."

The look on her face is almost verging on lewd as she lets herself out of the room again, if any expression on sweet Martha's face could be called lewd.

She didn't mean… did she? No, Mary decides. No, Martha certainly didn't mean that.

Regretfully, Mary pushes back the covers and swings her legs over the side of the bed. She allows herself a moment of longing to give into the rush of desire with Martha's face in the front of her mind, but only a short moment.

 

*** * * * ***

 

Just like every evening, Martha tends to her room and helps her out of any particularly difficult clothing. This time she's particularly slow and careful as she unlaces the corset and helps Mary slip out of her outer garments, and then gathers everything up with a smile and makes her way out of the room, and Mary is alone for the night. She exchanges the rest of her clothes for a nightgown and wanders about the room, poking at this and that and looking out across the pitch-black moor like she always does. She's just begun to eye her bed when the door to her bedroom opens again.

"I thought you might like a hot cup of tea before bed, miss, after spending all day in that wretched thing."

"Oh!" She puts a hand to her heart as she spins to look at Martha with wide eyes. "Thank you, Martha."

There's a twinkle in Martha's eye at that, that tempts Mary to voice the words they both remember whenever Mary says thank you for anything. She's still a queer little thing and voices her gratitude overly stiffly, but she can't remember that first time aloud without Martha laughingly asking for a kiss. Tonight, with the light flickering over Martha's face and the manor slumbering around them, she doesn't think could bear it, so she says nothing. Instead she smiles and sits down in front of the cup Martha has brought.

"There you are, Miss Mary. You've had a long day, haven't you?" Martha drops into a seat across from her and nudges the cup a little closer; Mary wraps her hands around it gratefully. When she lifts it to her lips, she finds its warmth is a small but welcome comfort after a trying day.

"I was bored and uncomfortable all evening," she agrees. "I hate the card games they keep insisting we play. Colin kept saying I ought to cross my arms and refuse to look at anything but the floor, like I used to do when he was horrible to me."

"Oh, aye. You had quite the rows when you were little." Mary hums in amused agreement and lifts her cup again. Martha watches her for a moment, and then pushes back her chair and moves to stand behind Mary, where she starts gently tugging her hair free of its complicated pattern of pins, the last remnants of her showy outfit. It's a fresh relief each time she slides one free and Mary feels another curl of hair land lightly on the back of her neck. She sighs, places her half-empty tea cup on the table and tips her head forward gratefully.

Martha works carefully and steadily, pausing every few pins to comb her fingers through Mary's hair. Her finger tips trace across her scalp and down her neck and shoulders, and Mary feels all the annoyances of her day melt away under the caress.

"There we are, miss. All done," Martha says finally, but she doesn't stop pulling her fingers through her hair.

"You've been very helpful," Mary murmurs, with her chin against her chest and her eyes closed.

"Here now, lets get you bed," is all Martha has to say in reply and while Mary finds herself immediately missing the contact on her neck, she doesn't complain when Martha takes her by the arm and steers her into bed. Once there, she fluffs the pillows behind Mary's back and smoothes the covers over her legs in a way that sends Mary's mind flying back to the morning. She hisses in a breath through her teeth, and then swallows hard when Martha's hands pause in her lap at the sound, but she doesn't look up. She doesn't dare.

"There now, you should be relaxed for sleep," Martha mock scolds. "Or perhaps you still need relaxing."

"Martha-"

"Have I ever steered you wrong, Miss Mary?" Martha interrupts her, and her lips quirk with laughter when Mary looks up and immediately shakes her head. She's been Mary's best friend after Colin and Dickon and she knows it. She's too common and she talks too much for a lady's maid, but Mary could never forsake the first person to show her such kindness, and they've grown close over the years.

"No, you haven't," Mary insists when the silence stretches, and Martha nods decisively.

"That's right, miss. Now, I suppose nobody's ever sat you down to talk about things like this morning before."

"You know very well that-"

"Of course not," Martha continues, speaking over her until she is forced to stop. "Or you'd realise that mornings aren't a good time for that. Evenings, now, are much better."

And with that, she hops up and perches on the side of Mary's bed. Her hip brushes against Mary's thigh, and her skin feels like it's burning from the contact, even though all her sheets and covers.

"But what you must remember is to keep quiet," she leans cross and whispers, so close that her breath brushes Mary's lips. "Because there are always servants about in a manor like this, Miss. At all hours they are, and you wouldn't want them gossiping now."

"No, no I wouldn't," Mary replies, her voice quiet as requested but breathless too, and Martha's eyes light up. She shifts a little closer, and places a hand on Mary's hip while she slips the other under the covers. She moves deftly despite all the material around and between them, much more so than Mary can ever manage without getting tangled, and Mary's mind goes blank when she's suddenly stroking those same strong fingers along the crease of Mary's thighs, asking for entrance.

Mary's head thuds back against the headboard as she bucks into the sensation and spreads her legs eagerly. Martha's fingers move again just as quickly as before, and Mary finds herself groaning her name.

"Hush now," Martha says, and then kisses her when she doesn't. "Have you ever tried this, miss?" she asks with wide, innocent eyes that don't match the cheeky slant of her grin, as she slips two fingers inside of Mary and slides her thumb up to take their place. Mary arches her back and slips down the pillows. She wants to close her eyes and loose herself in the sensation, and open her eyes and watch Martha's face.

"How about this then?" she says, twisting her hand, and then has to lean forward quickly to swallow another of Mary's groans. "Hasn't anyone taught you anything useful, Miss Mary?"

Mary refuses to respond to the teasing, but brings her hands up to hold Martha close so that she has to keep kissing her. It's easier, she decides, than deciding whether to watch Martha in return.

"Well then," Martha mumbles against her lips with a quiet laugh. "I suppose I better show you a few things."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [100_women table](http://shopfront.dreamwidth.org/283810.html?format=light) and the **[2009 International Day of Femslash](http://www.femslashday.com/). Thanks to Amanda for the beta.**


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